A Time to Live, A Time to Love
by GoodShipSherlollipop
Summary: Following his shooting at the hands of Mary (S3:E3), Sherlock re-evaluates his life choices and realizes he wants to make some changes in his situation with Molly Hooper following a conversation and half-remembered kiss. Can a simple kiss change his mind about sentiment being a chemical defect? (Part 7 of my "Realizations of Love Dreams" series.) Sherlolly.
1. Wake Up Call

**Author's note:** So here we are, it's another one of my little "what if" dream stories. A pretty short one this time, just three chapters in all.

Thanks to **Elizabeth Robello** for the title cover image. Added 7/10/19

* * *

Sherlock stared in disbelief at Mary, then at himself as he felt the agony of a bullet ripping into his body from close range.

"Mary," he uttered, as blood seeped out of the small round opening. Sirens went off in his brain and his mind palace took over.

His first mental image was that of descending stairs, then the next one was of Molly Hooper. Mind palace Molly gave him the information about his wound. Philip Anderson joined her, as did Mycroft, and between the three of them, Sherlock found the answers his brain already knew. Alarms continued to sound in his brain as Molly told him to fall backwards.

As he fell backwards he was told by Molly he was going into shock and warned by Mycroft to not do so. He struggled to maintain consciousness, dealing with the agony he was feeling, even as he ended up inside his mind palace in a padded room with a taunting Moriarty.

As John came to his aid in the real world, Sherlock could feel himself slipping into unconsciousness and possible death.

Moriarty continued to taunt him. Dying would be so easy, much easier than living. He could just let go of everything and there would be no more pain.

And then his heart stopped beating.

Even as his brain was being deprived of oxygen, it continued to function and finally, he found the will to live. People cared about him, needed him.

He forced himself bit by bit up the staircase created by his mind, and his heart began to beat once again.

Sherlock Holmes had escaped the Grim Reaper or, if one preferred, the Angel of Death, once again.

His next memory was that of being in a hospital room. He could feel the cannula in his nose, supplying him with oxygen, the IV in his arm and electrodes on his chest keeping track of his heartbeat.

Remembering his last conscious word, he mouthed it again, in a voice that was barely audible due to the intubation tube that had been put down his throat during surgery to keep him breathing while under anesthesia. "Mary."

He heard the voice before he saw the face of his friend. "Oh, thank God you're alive. We almost lost you."

He smiled weakly and lapsed into unconsciousness once more.

The next thing he felt was a tingling sensation in his hand and on his lips. _How odd_, he thought, unable to process what was causing it.

His eyes opened a crack and he suddenly realised what was happening. A pair of soft, sweet lips was placed against his own, and as he looked through the shadow caused by his eyelashes in surprise, they were removed and he saw the face to which those lips belonged. It was Molly. Molly Hooper, the first person his brain had turned to as a visual reference for his mind palace. The woman who mattered the most.

"Molly," he breathed in a soft, probably inaudible whisper, even as he drifted back into the welcome embrace of unconsciousness, barely registering just beforehand that the tingle in his hand was the feel of hers clasping his own.

On the next occasion Sherlock woke, he knew that the cannula had been removed and he was no longer in intensive care, but a regular hospital room. Apparently he was out of danger. Sadly though, the first images he saw as he woke were headlines thrust in his face.

It was almost amusing, seeing those headlines portraying him as being some kind of sex machine, particularly seeing as that was one state with which he had never been afflicted. Despite his protestations to the contrary in a talk with Mycroft, the idea of sex _did_ indeed alarm him. The idea of sharing his body in an act of intimacy with another human being was simply incomprehensible. Love was a chemical defect found in the losing side. Hadn't he proved that quite well when he had outwitted Irene Adler?

When he saw the person holding the newspapers in front of his face, he understood why his name had been brought into the tabloids in such a sordid manner. _Janine_.The woman he had manipulated in order to get to Magnussen. He couldn't really blame her for wanting to get back at him.

A short conversation later and things were sorted between them. She didn't seem overly upset, and now she had a lot of money to console her.

It was only a minute after she had gone when Sherlock had another visitor – Molly.

She entered the room hesitantly, opening her mouth as if to ask a question, then stopping short when she spied the newspapers on the bed. Her face drained of color and she spun on her heel, ready to flee. Undoubtedly she had seen Janine coming out of his room.

"Wait, Molly. Don't go, please don't go." He couldn't help the almost pleading note in his voice as he lifted his arm towards her in supplication.

She turned and took a small step towards him, and he could see the bright sheen of tears in her eyes. "I'm sorry, it's just a bit of a shock to see what you've been up to lately. Now I know why you've been steering clear of the hospital since John and Mary's wedding, aside from the drugs you've been taking." She gave him a pained smile.

Sherlock shook his head vehemently and patted a spot on the bed, indicating for her to sit. He snatched at the newspapers and threw them haphazardly on the floor.

She perched nervously on the edge of the bed, as he asked, "Do you always believe what you read in the tabloids?"

She looked at him, her fingers picking at the sheet on the hospital bed. "They were tabloids? I didn't notice. What I saw was the headlines."

He sighed. "If you don't believe me, pick them up off the floor and check. There's no truth to any of them, I assure you." He spoke earnestly reaching out his hand towards her and placing it over her restless fingers. A flash of memory returned to him, that of a hand holding his and causing the same slight tingle. It was odd, he thought. In the years they had known each other, they had rarely had any physical contact. Yes, he had kissed her cheek twice, and if he was honest with himself, the second one had not been intended for her cheek, except for the fact that he had just discovered she was engaged and a kiss to the lips would have been highly inappropriate.

"I…I believe you, Sherlock," she responded, looking from his hand to his face. "Why did someone print such rubbish about you?"

Sherlock sighed again. "You undoubtedly noticed the woman leaving my room. Her name is Janine and she was a bridesmaid at Mary's wedding."

She nodded. "I remember. She's very attractive, and I think she was interested in you." He was relieved to see that she no longer looked as if she were about to cry.

"I have a confession to make." He looked down in embarrassment, then back at Molly's questioning gaze. "I exploited her attraction to me. I'm not proud of it, but I used her as a means to an end. For the past month I've been seeing her, buttering her up as it were, to try to get to Charles Magnussen because she is his personal assistant. Do you know who he is?"

"_The _Charles Magnussen, top of the heap when it comes to destroying people's lives?" she asked, raising her eyebrows at him.

"One and the same. The man is a blackmailer. He discovers unsavoury information about people and, if they don't do what he wants, he exposes their secrets." He blew out a breath. "The point is, Molly, I used Janine for a case, and she used me right back to make a little money for herself. I can't say I blame her." His hand tightened on Molly's.

"I see." For the first time he saw a slight change in her expression, a more hopeful look in her eyes. "So you're not still with her then?"

"I should have thought that was _fairly_ obvious by what I just told you," he responded with a small smile, gesturing at the discarded newspapers on the floor, where the one could still be seen with the headline of '_He made me wear the hat_.' "Anyone who knows me wouldn't believe that anyway, I hate that damned ear hat!"

Molly giggled. "I must admit, I think it is a shame to cover your beautiful curls with that hat as well."

_My beautiful curls? _he thought, intrigued by the statement, filing it away for future reference. _Molly likes my curls. Don't get a haircut anytime soon._

Hastily, he forced himself back to the conversation at hand. Best to stick to a neutral topic rather than start daydreaming. "By the way, I need to apologise to you."

"For being an idiot and pumping yourself full of toxins?" she asked a little pertly.

He shot her a rueful smile. "Well, that too. I regret my actions of the previous month. I've made several errors in regard to Magnussen and I am willing to admit it. But no, that isn't what I wanted to apologise for right now."

She looked surprised. "I don't know what else you'd want to apologise about, what is it?"

There was a twist to his lips as he said, "I need to apologise for announcing to all and sundry that your engagement was over."

She gave a short, humourless laugh. "Don't worry about it. That wasn't a revelation. You were probably the last person to know, because I haven't seen you since the wedding."

He furrowed his brow. _Apparently the engagement has been over for some time, then,_ he deduced. To confirm his deduction he asked, "So, if I may be so bold as to ask – when exactly did you break things off?" Then he added, feeling he needed to make sure of the facts, "Unless the meat dagger theorist was the one who ended your engagement?"

He knew it was rude to make fun of the man that way, but really, the theory had been preposterous, and, if he was honest with himself, Sherlock knew he had invited the young man to explain his deduction out loud in order to embarrass himself which he had done, very satisfyingly, as it turned out. He still didn't understand how Molly could have chosen to marry such a simpleton, when she could have done so much better. She was definitely better off without him.

Of course, Molly did not let his tactless statement pass unaddressed. "That's a very rude thing to say, Sherlock," she told him firmly. "Just because _you_ are a genius, doesn't mean everyone else has to be."

He felt a little embarrassed and put in his place. Molly always knew how to make him feel bad for his often thoughtless behaviour. It was one of the things he loved, er _liked_ best about her. "Er, sorry," he muttered, feeling the need as usual to apologise again. He was _always_ apologising to her! Then he raised his brow again in inquiry. "You were going to tell me when you broke things off or he did so?" he pressed.

She looked away from him, as if unable to meet his intent gaze, fixing her eyes on one of the flower arrangements in the room. "I broke it off right after the wedding reception, after he took me home."

Despite himself, Sherlock was intrigued. It seemed a rather cruel thing to do, time-wise, and Molly was not known for her cruelty. In fact, she was the kindest person he knew. He was also rather relieved to know it had indeed been she who had ended things. He was about to ask her why, when a nurse came into the room.

"I'm afraid Mr. Holmes needs his rest now," the nurse announced, reaching behind Sherlock's head to fluff his pillow and to check various things, like how much fluid was left in his IV bag.

Molly stood, removing her hand from where it had rested under Sherlock's.

"Can we continue this discussion tomorrow?" he asked her hopefully.

She nodded. "Tomorrow," she agreed.

"You promise?" he asked, feeling rather silly, but wanting to make sure she didn't back out. He was very curious to know why, after all this time, she had broken things off with her fiancé. He tried not to think about how much it mattered to him to know. That would imply he might be having his own feelings of sentiment for her. Was that even possible?

"I promise," she said softly. To his surprise, she walked towards him and kissed his forehead. Her lips felt very different from Janine's, softer, sweeter somehow. Remembrance suddenly surfaced of a pair of soft, sweet lips against his own, and he was a little embarrassed when his heart rate accelerated and the increase in heart rate became apparent quite audibly from the monitor.

The nurse looked over at him in concern. "Are you feeling all right, Mr. Holmes?" she asked anxiously. "Should I get a doctor?"

Molly also looked at him with a worried expression on her face, not seeming to realise his accelerated heartbeat was due to her kiss, and the remembrance of the last one, rather than some unknown problem he was having.

"I'm fine," he assured the nurse, with a little more brusqueness than was necessary. Molly hesitated, then lifted her hand in farewell and left the room.

Sherlock watched impatiently as the nurse replaced his IV bag and took his temperature, then checked his morphine level and asked why it was set at zero. He informed her that he was trying to stay away from any more medication than necessary, and she shrugged. "It's your funeral, love," she told him before exiting the hospital room.

Once she had gone, Sherlock heaved a sigh of relief. He wanted to think about Molly and the kiss he barely remembered. He closed his eyes and strained to remember every detail. Then an image of her came into his mind of the way she had been the first person with him in his mind palace, just after he was shot. Why had she been the one he thought of first? Why indeed was she always the one his thoughts turned to when he needed help with something?

His near death experience had certainly been a wake up call. He knew he had to re-evaluate his life and make some changes. He thought again about Molly and reached a conclusion. There were some definite changes he needed to make in regard to his relationship with her. He knew that now. For the first time he saw clearly for himself how much she meant to him, and now that she too was free, perhaps there was hope for him. She had kissed him on the lips, after all. Surely that meant something?

He lifted a hand to his mouth, remembering again the tingle he had felt. He definitely wanted to feel that again. If he felt something with the merest brush of her lips, what would it be like to really kiss her?

He had felt no such sensation when kissing Janine, which he had avoided as much as possible anyway. A feigned mouth ulcer had prevented him from kissing her for several days, a toothache for a few more. He had even complained of having painfully chapped lips. In fact, he calculated mentally in his head, he and Janine had shared no more than a dozen open mouthed kisses, including the one in front of John, in the month they had been together, and the rest had been mere brushes of the lips.

His thoughts churned with the possibilities even as his brain kept saying, _Molly, Molly, Molly. _Finally, he fell asleep still thinking about her.

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**Author's note:** I love the idea of Sherlock acknowledging his feelings for Molly at an earlier point in the series. These dreams give me the chance to explore that.

To see where this dream fits into my Sherlolly universe, I refer you to my other current story, _A Journey Through Molly's Diary_.

If you are liking this so far, don't forget to follow and favourite it and leave a review.


	2. A New Day

The following day, Sherlock felt a sense of nervous anticipation as he waited for Molly to come. He had no doubt that she would do so. Molly always kept her promises. That was why he trusted her implicitly.

He knew if she was working she would wait for her lunch break. He endured morning visits from John and Mary, his parents and Lestrade, all the while thinking internally about how much he needed to see Molly.

His own lunchtime came and went, hospital food that rivalled the almost inedibility of the canteen food, which he forced himself to eat to keep his strength up. When he thought he could bear it no longer, and that he must've been mistaken, and that for the first time, Molly was going to break a promise, he heard a knock at his door and knew instinctively it was her.

His nervousness and excitement betrayed him immediately as the heart monitor suddenly began to beep faster and he waited a few seconds for it to return to a more regular rhythm, before responding with, "Come in, Molly."

She opened the door and stood framed in the doorway for a moment. He drank in the sight of her and that blasted monitor began to beep too fast once again.

_Damn, I wish I could mute the volume on that,_ he thought to himself with chagrin.

"Sherlock, are you okay? Your heartbeat was behaving rather erratically yesterday as well. Do you want me to call for a doctor to examine you?" Molly asked anxiously, stepping towards him and positioning herself by the bed, close enough so he could touch her.

"There's nothing wrong with me," he insisted. "Just a little arrhythmia, that's all," he lied smoothly, not ready to tell her the true reason for his accelerated heartbeat. He patted the space next to him as he had done the day before, and pressed the button to raise the head of the bed upwards, the way it had been the previous day, so he could talk with her more easily.

She accepted his invitation and sat on the bed as she had done the previous day, perching at the edge. "So, how are you feeling, then?" she ventured, with a shy smile at him.

"Quite well, considering I almost died from a bullet wound a couple days ago. It aches like the devil, but it's nothing I can't handle," he assured her, and added, "Won't you get up onto the bed properly and face me?" To his relief, he noticed that his heartbeat had returned to its normal rhythm as he spoke the last words, although he knew there was no guarantee it would stay that way.

"All right then," she agreed, hoisting herself up onto the bed properly and crossing her legs so her left was over her right, angling herself towards him. A she did so, her hand brushed his and the monitor registered a slight acceleration in his heartbeat once again. _Damn machine, _ he thought balefully, tempted to just rip the electrodes off his chest. Of course that wouldn't help, because it would just bring a slew of doctors into the room, thinking he had gone into cardiac arrest. He tried to think of where their conversation had left off the previous day. Oh yes, she had said that she had broken off her engagement right after John's wedding.

"I'm sorry we couldn't finish our conversation yesterday," he told Molly, looking directly into the dark pools of her coffee-coloured eyes. _How have I never thought before how utterly beautiful and warm those eyes are? _"I was wondering, why did you choose to break off your engagement after the reception? It seems a rather cruel way to end what should have been an enjoyable day for all involved."

Molly's gaze dropped before his and she blushed, fidgeting slightly. Then she looked up again at him and asked, "Do you want the truth?"

Sherlock furrowed his brow. "Of course I want the truth." He formulated his words carefully. "Did he hurt you – abuse you in some way?"

She gave him a shocked look. "Of course he didn't abuse me. Do you think I would've been engaged to him for so long if he had? I would never be somebody's punching bag. No, it was something else." She chewed on her lip nervously, as if contemplating whether to elaborate.

Unthinkingly, he moved his hand to place it over hers, and the blasted monitor did its little beeping game again, but he ignored it. "Tell me why, then," he pressed, admiring the way her face looked when she blushed.

He saw her take a deep breath and blow it out again before she spoke. "I realised that I loved Tom, but that I wasn't _in_ love with him."

He raised an inquiring eyebrow. "And how would you define the difference between loving someone and being _in_ love with them?" He was intrigued by her words and honestly curious about them.

He could see she was thinking, trying to formulate an answer, and he waited patiently for her response. "I don't really know how to explain it. I feel comfortable around Tom, settled, but he didn't excite me, if you know what I mean," she winced at her own words as if they were inadequate, and began again. "I cared about him and was happy to see him, but I didn't anticipate seeing him before we would go out together. I didn't daydream about him when we weren't together the way I do with y-" She stopped suddenly, as if she had been about to say something indiscreet. "…with other things," she finished lamely.

Had she been about to say _you_? he wondered, with a sudden leap of his heart as the monitor registered another spike in his heart rate.

He saw that her cheeks were still suffused with colour and impulsively stroked his thumb along the back of her hand, watching her chest as she took a quick inhalation of breath. "I was wondering-" he began, now a little nervous himself at what he was about to ask, then bravely pushed on, "if you would do something for me?"

She had been looking down at his thumb as it moved along the back of her hand, but now she looked up into his face questioningly. Without hesitation she responded, "You know I'd do anything for you, Sherlock." There was a softness to her voice which he did not miss.

Sherlock swallowed thickly. "Molly, would you…would you kiss me – on the lips I mean, the way you did two days ago?"

She looked startled at that. "You…you remember that?"

He answered honestly. "Not at first, but I remembered it after you left me yesterday. Will you do this for me?" He held his breath, waiting for her answer.

Her eyes searched his as if she were wondering why he was making this request, but finally she nodded and said, "Alright."

She slid off the bed and walked closer, then bent her head, obviously intending to just give him the briefest of kisses.

As soon as her lips touched his, however, he reached his hand up to clasp it around her neck and prevent her pulling away.

The heart monitor began to make a frantic beeping sound as he kissed her, feeling the wondrous sweetness of her lips on his. She finally responded by opening her mouth and heat flooded his body. He forgot everything, the constant ache of his chest wound, the fear of intimacy that had plagued him all his life, and lost himself to sensation.

At last he released his hold on her head, feeling his chest rapidly rising and falling and noting that hers was doing the same, as she rose to a standing position, even as two nurses rushed into the room with a defibrillator.

They stopped short when they saw the couple separating, and stood there looking a little confused about what to do next.

Sherlock gave them a small smile. "The defibrillator will not be necessary. I'm afraid that this woman," he made a small gesture toward Molly, who was standing awkwardly next to the bed, looking at the nurses, "has a rather interesting effect on my heart."

One of the nurses, the younger one, giggled at that, while the older one remarked rather dryly, "It might be a good idea if you refrain from any activity that would cause that kind of reaction while you are still hooked up to the heart monitor." She gave them both a stern look, then nodded to the other nurse, and they exited the room, pushing the defibrillator trolley ahead of them.

Molly glanced over at Sherlock. "Well, that was awkward."

He reached for her hand, but she stepped a little away from him. She glanced at the monitor which was gradually showing that his heartbeat was beginning to return to normal, just as the constant beep was also slowing down. "Um, probably not a good idea if we don't want those nurses coming back in."

Sherlock frowned. "I suppose you're right. However, I hope this little exercise gives you an idea of what you do to me."

She looked at him uncertainly. "That never happened when you were with Janine?"

He shook his head emphatically. "Never." He gave her an intent look. "Molly, I have loved you as a friend for some time now. Judging by my reaction to your kiss just now, and the fact that I have been spending a lot of time thinking about you when you are not with me, do you think I might be _in_ love with you?"

She moved a little closer and the smile she gave him dazzled him, seeming to fill the room with bright sunlight. "I think it's a definite possibility," she whispered.

His eyes searched her face. "Might I dare to hope that you feel the same way?"

"Yes, Sherlock," she breathed in that same soft voice.

He looked at her longingly, wishing to feel the contact of her lips again. Then he gave her a wry smile. "I'd really like to kiss you again, but I suppose it will have to wait until these-" he indicated the electrodes on his chest, "come off, or I will get in trouble for causing the nurses unnecessary work."

Her look to him was just as longing, as she responded. "I suppose you're right. Perhaps tomorrow. I should get back to work now, anyway." She moved towards him and gave his cheek the briefest of kisses, and then she was gone.

Sherlock sighed. Oh well, tomorrow was another day.

It was a very frustrated Sherlock who was released from hospital ten days later. He supposed he should be grateful that so many people cared about him and wanted to spend time with him. His parents, bless their hearts, came to visit him every day. Mycroft came every other day. What with visits from John and Mary, Mrs. Hudson and Lestrade, it was impossible to have any time alone with Molly. Every single time she came to see him, there was already someone else there, and his other visitors did not seem in a hurry to leave. So, even after he no longer had to worry about the heart monitor, Sherlock was unable to kiss Molly again in the way he wished. All he got from her were either chaste kisses on the cheek or forehead.

As soon as he got home from the hospital, he texted her.

_Please come to Baker Street tonight. I'll provide the dinner._

Her response came through shortly afterward.

_How can I refuse such a kind request? I'll be there by five._

Sherlock smiled to himself. He was looking forward to spending some time with her alone at last. He yearned to kiss her again, to explore what he now knew to be the love he felt for her.

At four o'clock, Sherlock walked to his favorite chip shop and purchased chips for himself and Molly. As he did so, he remembered the day he had invited her to go there for chips, the day he had found out she was engaged. He recalled the hurt and disappointment he had felt in finding out she was promised to another man, although he had not understood the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. But that was all in the past now and he was looking forward to a future with her himself.

As soon as he returned home he contemplated where he could put the chips. The kitchen table was out of the question, of course. As usual it was filled with the myriad assortment of beakers and test tubes and other scientific paraphernalia. He supposed he would have to do something about that soon. Finally, he deposited the chips on the coffee table and checked his watch. Four-thirty. His stomach churned with anticipation. She would be here soon.

Sherlock moved to his front window, watching the street, remembering that time several months earlier, when he had done the same, waiting for Molly. This time there was no fiancé to get between them though. He finally spotted her making her way along the street, having obviously come from the train station. Her hair was no longer in its usual ponytail or braid, which meant she had spent some time trying to improve her appearance before heading to Baker Street. No doubt that was why she was a few minutes late. He saw wisps of loose hair flying about her head in a halo as she approached due to a brisk breeze. To his eyes she looked windswept and wonderful.

He bounded down the stairs to get to the outer door and reached it just as the doorbell rang. He opened it to Molly, even as Mrs. Hudson, in her usual manner, opened her front door, ready to welcome the visitor. Upon seeing that Sherlock was already there, she gave a little smile and returned to her flat, closing the door behind her.

Sherlock stood for a moment, drinking in the sight of Molly and her windblown hair, even as she brushed away some strands which had obscured her vision. Even as he moved aside to allow her entrance, he wished he could've swept those wisps away from her face himself. "Go ahead," he invited, gesturing towards the stairs so she would precede him.

He watched as she trailed her hands along the railing on her way up the stairs. Such lovely, frail looking hands, but ones that had such strength in them. The sway of her hips too, he had never noticed before just how womanly she was. The door was open to his flat but she did not go in, instead she waited for him to join her.

"Go ahead," he invited again, and she stepped a little nervously into the flat. He closed the door and stared at her quietly for a moment. He wondered if she was doubting his feelings for her, seeing as they had not really been able to speak properly alone since that conversation after his heartbeat had betrayed his feelings. So he decided the best way to prove he meant it was to show her.

Even as she looked up at him shyly, he placed one hand gently on either side of her face, bent his head and kissed her.

He kissed her with all the longing, the yearning he'd been feeling for her since their last kiss. He could feel his heartbeat accelerating yet again and then felt her arms encircle his neck and her fingers thread through the curls at the nape of it. He exulted in her touch even as, for the first time he noticed his own physical response to her. No other woman had ever made him feel desire. The idea of intimacy with anyone had been repellent and alarming. The thought of sharing one's body so completely with another human being had just seemed uninviting, but strangely, he didn't feel that way anymore. He realised the difference was love. It was not lust or mere physical attraction he felt for Molly, it was something deep, beyond comprehension. It stirred his soul. He wanted to share himself with her, to experience the act of love with the woman he loved beyond all reason.

Even as he continued to kiss Molly passionately, moving his lips sensuously against her own soft ones, delighting in the way she opened herself fully to him, Sherlock moved one hand to touch her shoulder and the other to the small of her back, pressing her closer towards him, closer, ever closer, until she gasped, and he knew she had become aware of his body's rather obvious need. She pulled away from him then and her face was suffused with colour.

And suddenly, she spun on her heel and fled, pulling open the flat door hastily and running down the stairs. Soon afterward there was the sound of a door banging closed. Her sudden departure left Sherlock feeling confused and terrified that he had lost her, that he was moving too fast towards something he realised he wanted, but couldn't be sure was something she wanted as well, at least not yet. He wasn't even certain how far things could have gone between them. He had just wanted to feel the exquisite sensation of her lips against his own. It was his body's unexpected autonomic response to that sensation that had prompted him to continue the kiss as a heretofore unknown fire had begun to build inside himself.

Realistically too, with his need to convalesce further from the gunshot wound, he doubted his body would be ready for the energy required to indulge in any kind of sexual activity. But that didn't make his desire for Molly any less. His pounding heart was definitely ruling his other, more logical faculties.

As he concentrated on trying to steady his breathing, he walked over to his chair, sat in it and put his face in his hands. What had he done?

* * *

**Author's note:** I like the idea of Molly's touch causing Sherlock's heartbeat to accelerate, so I had a bit of fun with that idea. I hope you enjoyed the way the nurses rushed in, thinking something was wrong! I must admit, part of it was inspired by an episode I saw many years ago of Seinfeld. Jerry Seinfeld's father is in hospital and every time his mother comes into the room, his father's heartbeat accelerates. Jerry thinks it is due to stress, but later finds out from his father that it isn't stress at all, but love.

Tiny little note - this AU takes the premise that Sherlock did not skip out of the hospital unexpectedly during his time there because it is not necessary to the plot. This Sherlock was much too concerned about his future with Molly to be thinking of anything else :)

So, Sherlock and Molly have revealed their feelings for one another. Poor Sherlock, he just doesn't know how to deal with these emotions. What do you think is going to happen next? Why do you think Molly ran?


	3. A New Life

Sherlock remained in his chair for quite some time, as the chips on the coffee table grew cold and the room darkened around him. He berated himself for getting caught up in the moment, for allowing his emotions to overwhelm him. He was a little confused, though. He wasn't sure why Molly had been frightened off when she realised he desired her. In fact, he had been quite overwhelmed by the depth of his feelings as well. It was something with which he was completely unfamiliar, this feeling of wanting to be with her physically. He'd never before felt so out of his element, slave to his body's primitive needs, and the idea was rather unsettling. He supposed it was too soon to expect Molly to be ready for another sexual relationship, having just come out of her last one. It was strange, the way she had acted as if she had never been with a man, though. It wasn't as if he was planning to seduce her. God only knew these feelings were so new that he didn't know what to do with them either.

He reflected further. Perhaps she was afraid that he didn't know his own mind and was just wishing to explore this new aspect with her, and that once he had finished experimenting with her, he would leave her. That had to be it, he reasoned to himself. She just didn't want to be hurt again. He blew out a breath and stood, taking the uneaten chips to the rubbish bin, no longer feeling in the slightest hungry. He had more important things to do than eat. He needed to have a plan. He was going to have to woo Molly Hooper.

The following day, Sherlock went out and bought a dozen red roses and a box of chocolates. Wasn't that the sort of thing a person did when trying to woo a woman? He sincerely hoped so.

He checked with the hospital to find out when Molly's shift ended, and he left his flat in order to arrive at the hospital just before she was due to finish. He hid in a small alcove, the way he had done years earlier, before presenting himself to her for the first time upon his return to London.

He watched as she walked straight to her locker and opened the door to put away her lab coat and pick up her handbag as she always did. This time, instead of standing so that she could see an image of his face in the mirror, he held the flowers there instead. He heard her little gasp of surprise as she undoubtedly saw them and the sound of the locker door closing, then he lowered the flowers to look at her.

"Sherlock! What are you doing here?" she questioned. Her tone of voice held anxiety and was it - _fear_?

He looked at her face, noticing the shadows under her eyes and the tight set to her lips. She looked as if she had not slept the night before. She stood uncertainly as if ready to flee again.

He held up the flowers to her and the box of chocolates in his other hand, but she just looked at them and crossed her arms in front of herself defensively.

He drew in a deep breath. "Molly, I am sorry. Forgive me." Unconsciously he repeated the same words he had used at the Christmas party.

She looked down then, biting her lip and he saw a stray tear making its way down her face. "I'm sorry too, Sherlock. Things were moving too fast. We went from being good friends, to casual acquaintances, to a budding relationship and then all of a sudden I felt trapped. I'm not ready for a sexual relationship with you." She lifted her eyes to his, and he could see her hands were trembling in front of her as she had unfolded her arms to instead twist her fingers together nervously.

"Molly, I didn't mean…I wasn't planning to…" Desperately, he searched for the right words. "You have to know, I wasn't planning on seducing you. God knows, I've never even been with a woman. I didn't even know I was capable of feeling what you make me feel."

She exhaled slowly, dropping her arms to her sides. "I think we need to have a talk. There are some things you need to know about me too." Her voice sounded resigned and he wondered what he could've possibly missed, in regard to her.

He lowered the roses and chocolates slowly to his sides and searched her face. "Whatever it is, I want to work at this, Molly. I don't want to lose you this way. Is there somewhere we can go to talk?"

"I think…I think you should come to my place. There's something I want to show you." Now she looked nervous and he wondered again what she had been hiding from him.

"All right then," he agreed calmly, although his stomach felt as if it were in knots. He gave her a searching look. "Do you want to do this now?"

Her hair was in a side braid, and she reached with one hand to twirl the end of it, then nodded. "Yes."

He gave her a lopsided grin. "Will you at least take the flowers from me so I don't look like a complete idiot going back downstairs with them?" He held the roses towards her once again.

This time she took them with a smile of her own and a quick glance at his other hand. "Are those Ferrero Rochér chocolates?"

He held out his other hand and offered them to her. "Indeed they are. They're yours, if you want them."

She took the proffered chocolates and gave him a wider smile this time. "Actually, they're one of my favourite kinds of chocolate. I love hazelnut chocolate."

_Molly likes hazelnut chocolate._ Sherlock filed the information into his mind palace 'Molly likes/dislikes' room.

He would have liked to walk with his arm around her shoulders, but instead he allowed her to precede him and they left the hospital together.

Sherlock hailed a taxi and soon they were on their way to Molly's flat. They sat in rather awkward silence for the ride, and Sherlock noticed that Molly was chewing on her lip again, apparently nervous.

He held the flowers for her as she unlocked her flat and they went inside. Before doing anything else, Molly walked to the kitchen sink and withdrew a vase from beneath it, filling it with water and then placing the roses inside it. She then set the roses onto her kitchen table.

Sherlock stood watching her at her task until she asked him to sit, which he did, leaning with his elbows on the table and his hands steepled as if in concentration. Molly looked over at him. "Thank you for the flowers," she said warmly and he smiled.

"You're welcome, Molly. I'm glad you like them. Iv'e never bought flowers for a woman before, but it seemed like the type of thing a romantic suitor would do."

She blushed slightly. "Are you a romantic suitor then?"

"I would like to be, if you will allow it," he told her honestly.

She let out a deep breath. "Before you make any concrete decisions on whether this is what you really want, I need to get something," she told him and walked to her bedroom.

Sherlock waited for her to return, which she did a couple minutes later. She was holding something in her hand. She walked to him and set the object onto the table in front of him, as he dropped his hands and gazed at it in bewilderment. It looked to be a sterling silver wedding band.

He looked from the ring to her face questioningly "What's going on, Molly? Have you been secretly married all this time and been hiding the fact?" Even as he said the words he knew that didn't make sense, but he didn't know what else it could mean.

Molly let out a short huff of laughter. "It's not a wedding ring, Sherlock. It's a purity ring." She looked at him expectantly.

Sherlock ran his hands through his hair and looked down at the ring again, picking it up and examining it. "What exactly is a purity ring?" He looked back at Molly who had pulled a chair closer to him and seated herself upon it.

She took a deep breath and exhaled. Then she looked directly into Sherlock's eyes. "A purity ring symbolises that you wish to abstain from sex until you are married."

Sherlock blinked in surprise, touching the smooth metal of the ring. He raised a brow at her. "And this is your ring?"

She nodded. "Yes, my dad gave it to me as a gift for my sixteenth birthday. I was brought up in the church, and my parents knew that it was something I wanted to do, to follow the Bible's teaching on it." She looked down for a moment, as if remembering the day she had been given the ring, then looked back up at Sherlock. "I wore the ring for a year or two. I'm ashamed to say, I eventually put it away because people didn't seem to understand the symbolism of it, or they looked down on me."

He stared at her. "Why would people look down on you for having a different moral standard than they did?"

She shrugged helplessly. "People can be cruel. These days most people go from sexual partner to partner without thinking of the consequences or even caring about them. If a girl gets pregnant, she simply has an abortion if she doesn't feel ready to be a mother. A lot of people don't understand why anyone would want to be married before they shared their body with someone else."

Sherlock nodded his understanding. Even in his uni days, his roommates had frequently had different sex partners, and talked about their sexual exploits. Closer to home, he knew that John and Mary had obviously been intimate before they were married, seeing as Mary was pregnant already on the wedding day, and even before Mary, John spent nights with previous girlfriends as well as occasionally bringing one back to the flat. Even Janine had wanted more than he had been prepared to give her. Then Sherlock suddenly remembered Molly's words to him a month before John's stag night, when she had said she and Tom were having quite a lot of sex, whatever that meant.

He set the ring onto the table, then gave her a questioning look. "What about your former fiancé? I recall you telling me quite clearly that you and he were having quite a lot of sex."

Molly's face flamed with embarrassment and she dropped her gaze to look at the ring that now lay between them. She swallowed. "I…well, I might have exaggerated a bit on that front." Her hand reached out to take the ring but he put his own hand over hers, and she looked back up at him.

"Do you mean to say that you were never intimate with Tom, in fact, that you've never been intimate with _anyone_?" He heard the disbelief in his own voice. This was certainly not something he had been expecting.

She looked back at him. "It's true, Sherlock. That's why I had to leave yesterday. I was afraid of you, and of myself. Keeping to my values wasn't a problem when I was with Tom. Like I told you, I loved him, but it was a comfortable feeling, not this overwhelming-," she hesitated, closing her eyes briefly then opening them again, "_passion_ that I feel for you. When I'm around you I feel the way my body responds to you, and I'm afraid that if I'm around you too much I won't want to wait to be married." She gave him a pained smile. "I was kind of hoping that you would be the one to make sure things didn't get out of hand between us, and yesterday..." her voice trailed off and he finished for her.

"And yesterday, you discovered that my body reacts to yours physically as well. I'm sorry Molly, I wasn't expecting that to happen either." He gazed into her eyes and laid a hand over hers. "If it makes you feel any better, this, what we have between us, it's not a fling for me. You are the only woman I've ever wanted to give myself to completely, and I know that is because I'm in love with you. I want to be with you Molly, I want it all." He couldn't stop the note of passion that crept into his voice. "I know it's too early to be talking about marriage when we've barely kissed, but that is the endgame for me. I don't want to lose you – ever. And I want you to know that I am committed to you."

Molly lifted her free hand to brush away a tear. "So you're not cross with me for running away from you yesterday?"

He chuckled. Suddenly he felt happier than he had felt in a long time. "Well, I did waste a perfectly decent portion of chips I had bought for our dinner, so next time you're buying."

Molly's lips twitched in amusement at that. "Fair enough."

He looked into her fathomless eyes. "Molly, may I ask what your endgame is with me?"

Her other hand came over his. "I love you Sherlock. I don't want to ever lose you either."

He smiled at her. "Then I think we're on the same page. Why don't you put that ring back on now? I promise you, one day I'm going to replace it with a gold one."

The smile she gave him made him catch his breath. "Will you do the honours?" she asked him softly, picking up the ring in her right hand and offering it to him, while extending her left hand towards him.

Sherlock took the ring and placed it on her ring finger, and even as he did so, he felt a surge of emotion flood through him. He suddenly realised he couldn't wait to replace it with a wedding band that would pronounce to all that she was his and he was hers.

After he placed the ring on her finger, he stood and pulled Molly up. The kiss they exchanged this time was sweet and reverent, a kiss that held a promise of things to come.

Over the next month, he learned everything he could about Molly's beliefs. She was passionate about them, and he was willing to listen to her, because he loved her. It didn't take long until she showed him by her simple faith in what she believed, the truth there was to be found in God and His creation and the love He had shown to the world by sending His Son as a sacrifice for man's sin.

And when Molly read the following verses to him, Sherlock believed.

Romans 6:23 _"For the wages of sin is death, but the gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord."_

John 3:16 _"For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life."_

A few days after that, Molly was at Baker Street. They spent most evenings together and alternated between addresses.

They were sitting on the sofa and Molly's left hand was in Sherlock's right hand when he suddenly said, fingering the band on her finger, "Molly, I think it's time to take off that ring."

She looked at him a little apprehensively. Things had been getting rather passionate between them at times, and he had found himself on occasion caressing her breasts through her blouse, despite himself and his honourable intentions. From the little noises she made when he did so, he knew she was similarly affected by her desire for him, but he continued to keep an iron grip on those desires, not allowing them to overwhelm him. She bit her lip and asked hesitantly, "Why?"

His eyes widened at her tone and he rushed to reassure her, "I'm not planning to seduce you, sweetheart. I just want to replace the ring with something else if you're ready for it."

Keeping hold of her hand, he dug in his trouser pocket with his other one and extracted the diamond engagement ring he had purchased a few days earlier. It was time express the words he had been longing to say and hoped she had been longing to hear as well.

"Molly, as you know, I'm not a young teenager with time on my hands to be a long-term boyfriend to you. I know what I want, and what I want is this, to be with you for the rest of our lives and love you in the way you deserve. Will you exchange your current ring for this ring of promise? Will you marry me, Molly?"

Tears sprang to her eyes and her lips trembled as she responded. "It's all I've ever wanted, Sherlock, to be yours and to love you in the way you deserve as well. You know that my answer is yes."

She smiled through her tears and he gently pulled off the purity ring and replaced it with the engagement ring that showed his commitment to her. And then he kissed his new fiancée, as his own tears of joy mingled with hers.

And on their wedding day, two months later, it was a celebration not only of their love, but of the new life Sherlock had received when he committed himself to the Lord.

That night, as they consummated their love for the first time, Sherlock knew he was the most blessed of all men, with not only a God who loved him, but a wife who also loved him. Both offered a love that was undeserved, and yet it was freely given, and all he had needed to do was accept it.

Sherlock held his bride in his arms, feeling the softness of Molly's skin beneath his hands, and her body sweetly curled against his own. He kissed her hair. "I love you Molly, always," he whispered. His heart swelled with the love and adoration he felt for her.

She gave a sigh of contentment and pulled her body even closer to his. She lifted her face and he turned his head so they could kiss, and their lips clung together for several seconds, before she responded with, "And forever, my love."

* * *

**Author's note:** Yep, the purity ring makes another appearance. Yes, I know, I am ridiculously romantic when it comes to writing for these two. I just can't help it. The more happy endings and weddings I can give them, the better :)

If you are an unmarried Christian who wishes to remain pure for their wedding night, you should not feel ashamed. Yes, you may experience embarrassment and teasing by others, but stand firm for what you believe. I hope that my stories can be an encouragement to you. People should be respectful of what others believe, even if they do not adhere to the same values.

If you enjoyed this, you know how to feed my creativity.


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